Genesis
by Cyn Tolram
Summary: Sole survivor of the genetically enhanced Special Forces Unit called the Black Dragons, Ian Nottingham finds himself the target and the obsession of a well-funded group of genetics researchers determined to uncover his secrets at all costs.


Genesis 

Cyntolram@hotmail.com 

2/8/02

Disclaimer:  All rights to Witchblade and its characters belong to Top Cow and TNT.  I am just an admirer of the paradoxical yet seductive Mr. Nottingham as portrayed by Eric Etebari.

Synopsis:  The sole survivor of the genetically enhanced Special Forces Unit called the Black Dragons, Ian Nottingham finds himself the target and the obsession of a well-funded group of genetics researchers determined to uncover his secrets at all costs.

Chapter One 

If a casual observer were not aware of its existence, the underground genetics research facility would not be clearly visible from the air or by road.  Built into a small hill, the bunker-like structure had long since been forgotten.  Owned by Genesis Corporation, it had been built in the 1970s in a remote area of upstate New York but later abandoned.  The locals had even overlooked it over the years.  The late night activity to restore, restock, and refurbish had successfully remained a mystery and escaped any unwanted intrusion.  

With the facility soon to be brought online, a story would be spread that cancer research was the reason for the resurgence of the defunct structure.  Only a small group of people would know the real purpose, and most of them would live onsite, foregoing contact with family and friends until the project was complete.  The extensive research and laboratory facilities were renovated to include dorm rooms with individual baths, cafeteria, exercise area, pool, a medical clinic, and a small movie theatre to provide a sense of normalcy to its occupants.  They would be paid handsomely for such an inconvenience.

It was with secrecy in mind that a small subset of the research personnel was assembled today in a conference room in the north wing of the windowless facility.  Every department head in attendance had eagerly awaited the arrival of Doctor Rebecca Danforth.  Her first tour of the facility had been painstakingly thorough and arduous and spanned the last several days.  She alone was responsible for determining when and if the project could proceed.  Dimmed recessed lighting in the ceiling along the periphery of the room allowed for the associates to make notes during the video presentation.  The head of security, Stan Raynes, was at the lectern.  His mannerisms, close-cropped hair, and lean body type were everyday reminders of his military background and his influential connections at the Pentagon.  He wore dark gray slacks, a light blue oxford shirt, and a navy sweater vest.  All eyes in the room were fixated on the unbelievable footage being presented.

"As you can see, our subject demonstrates super human traits that can only be explained as a successful application of enhanced genetics as previously described.  This surveillance footage was shot by our personnel without the knowledge of the subjects shown."  

Raynes had been proud of his surveillance team.  The Black Dragons were difficult to track and monitor due to their enhanced senses.  The video caught the two strongest members of this elite Special Forces unit as they leapt from a three-story warehouse, one in pursuit of the other.  They took the leap without hesitation, knowing their bodies had been engineered to withstand the abrupt stop as they hit the ground running.  Such a leap by a normal human being would have resulted in hospitalization or death.  

The next clip was more difficult to discern in the dim lighting, but three of the members on motorized dirt bikes were attempting to kill the fourth who was on foot.  An eyewitness, interviewed by the local television crew, had claimed the fourth man had actually dodged and caught some of the flying bullets in his hands.  No one believed him but it made for interesting news coverage.  A shootout ensued and an innocent woman walking a dog was killed.  The filming of this amazing battle was cut short with the arrival of the NYPD.  In the end, the Black Dragons were fewer in number.

"At this taping, there were four members of the Black Dragons alive. As of today, only one is living.  It is rumored that our subject was responsible for the systematic elimination of his fellow Black Dragons for reasons unknown.  He is truly without peers.  If you believe in the theory based upon the survival of the fittest, Ian Nottingham is the best of the best.  Any questions?"

The lights near the podium and along the ceiling brightened as Raynes entertained questions from the floor.  There were fourteen men and women assembled around a large cherry wood conference room table, seated in black leather chairs.

"In your surveillance, did your people observe any other traits or senses not readily discernible by video?"  A male voice came from the back of the room.

"In their observation logs, my people noted on many occasions over the last year that the subjects seemed to display what can only be described as telepathic abilities amongst themselves.  Hopefully, we will get an opportunity to test this ability with our subject." Raynes replied as murmurs spread around the room.

"How long has our subject been observed by your personnel?"  A woman's voice queried from the right side of the room.

"Nottingham has been the most difficult to observe.  Under the employ of billionaire Kenneth Irons, his activities have been deviant and covert.  He is more of a loner.   His senses are keener.  He is also the most lethal of all the Black Dragons…obviously.  To be frank, he has been the least monitored.  I was more concerned with tipping our hand to him.  Believe me, we would not be sitting here today if Nottingham had sensed our observation.  Backed by Irons, he would have brought an end to this project before it had a chance to begin."

With that sobering thought, Stan Raynes continued.  "Perhaps it would be a good time to go over what we do know about Ian Nottingham."  Raynes detailed the sketchy information he had acquired on the last Black Dragon.

"He is extremely focused on his work…detailed and deadly.  He does not appear to have any vices as most human beings exhibit from time to time.  He does not do anything routinely.  For most of his life he has not had any special relationships outside of Irons.  The extent of that relationship is unknown.  His extreme and unquestionable loyalty to Irons could be one borne of a lifetime of mental and/or physical abuse, but I will let our resident psychiatrist speak to this topic."  

Raynes acknowledged the psychiatric department head with a hand gesture before continuing.

"He is highly intelligent and well read.  The Black Dragons were trained as 'Poet Warriors' with as much emphasis on their mental acumen as on their physical skills.  In your packets, you will find an autopsy report from the NYPD and a separate one conducted by our own staff from a subsequent exhumation of one of the dead.  The examinations focused on the brain and the chemical enhancements to increase aggression, lessen fear, and amplify the intelligence factor…a very lethal combination, ladies and gentlemen."

Raynes indicated the reports were located in section 4 before proceeding.

"In the last six months, he has been observed shadowing a certain NYPD homicide detective named Sara Pezzini.  You have photos of the detective in your packets.  This is the only hope that he is human.  She is very attractive."  A light chuckle arose from some in the room, dissipating some of the tension that had been building in the room, but not enough to distract those members eager to hear more about the subject of their project.

"There is a connection between Irons and Ms. Pezzini.  It is mere speculation on my part that Nottingham may be attracted to the homicide detective.  I guess I am just a romantic at heart.  None of my people have drawn such conclusions or observed any such activities.  Therefore, it must be assumed that Nottingham is operating on some orders from Irons with regard to Sara Pezzini.  If there are no more question, I will turn the podium over to Dr. Rebecca Danforth and the rest of our lengthy agenda."

Raynes gathered up his notes and sat down near the podium as Dr. Danforth rose to take his place.  In her early forties, she was an attractive woman in her own right.  Her light blond shoulder length hair was pulled back from her face by a barrette.  She wore little makeup.  Her blue eyes were a lethal combination of probing intelligence and sex appeal.  Her shapely and petite frame was easily discernible under her modest navy blue pants suit.

"Thanks, Stan.  As Mr. Raynes indicated, our subject's brain has been chemically altered to enhance his performance as a mercenary and bodyguard, but these drugs may also play a role in our capture of Nottingham.  This same enhanced section of his brain makes him susceptible to certain pulsating lights or higher pitched sound frequencies.  Such lights and sounds could incapacitate him just long enough for our team to administer a sedative.  We will discuss this in more detail when we get to the Subject Acquisition part of our agenda.  Now, I would like to turn the podium over to Regina Parsons, the head of our psychiatric department.  Dr. Parsons?"

Regina Parsons lumbered to the lectern in her sensible black pumps.  The dark brown suit she had chosen to wear no longer fit her ever-enlarging frame.  Her short dark hair was mussed from her running late to this meeting.  The slightly turned up nose on her face seemed minimized by the fullness of her cheeks and the faint shadow of a moustache she never seemed to have time to remove.  What would Sigmund Freud have thought about Regina Parsons?

"Good morning, people.  I have provided a brief psychiatric assessment based upon my limited knowledge of our subject Mr. Nottingham.  There is speculation that our subject may have been raised by Kenneth Irons.  When he was acquired by Mr. Irons is still a mystery.  The age of Irons and Nottingham are not consistent with the concept that Irons raised Nottingham from a child since they appear to be relatively close in age now, yet the speculation persists.  Here are newspapers clippings of our Mr. Irons who does not shy away from any opportunity to be in front of a camera."

Parsons dimmed the lights and initiated a slide show of various newspaper articles, some of which dated back to the 1940s.  Irons looked the same age as he was today, fueling speculation that he may have found the fountain of youth or discovered some genetic enhancement for his own use.  Kenneth Irons could definitely afford to do either.  It wasn't until the articles from the 1980s that some of the clippings held images of a young Nottingham in the background in various stages of maturity.  Parsons waited for the whispers to die down before proceeding.

"Nottingham most probably has been in training to be a warrior since childhood.  While most of us were playing with dolls or learning to color within the lines, he was being schooled in the art of war.  He may never have been allowed to be a child.  The focus of his training was adult in nature, so he may never have been permitted to develop the socialization skills we learned as children.  Consequently, although he is lethal and deadly, he may be inept in basic human interactions such as idle conversation, dating perhaps, playing games.  Things you or I may take for granted could prove formidable to our subject.  Irons may have prohibited such behavior, forcing his protégé to do his bidding solely."

There was a rare photo of the Black Dragons when they still numbered eleven.  In it, a younger Ian Nottingham sat apart from the rest of his unit somberly gazing off to his left.  His uniqueness was apparent even then. 

"The other Black Dragons had developed pronounced psychosis and were loyal to no one but themselves.  Nottingham has proved to be the exception in this regard.  He remains extremely loyal to Irons and may be willing to die for him.  He has demonstrated no outward signs of the psychosis and paranoia that plagued the other Black Dragons. His mental stability must be tested to better understand why he has survived and even thrived when others have not."

More recent newspaper clippings of social events featuring Kenneth Irons were projected to the screens.  In these articles, Nottingham could be seen faintly in the backgrounds, usually in profile, serving as a bodyguard to Irons.  It was obvious Nottingham did not share Irons' desire for publicity.

"He may have endured years of isolation and perhaps mental and/or physical abuse as part of his training.  Without spending time with the subject, I can only assume his loyalty to Irons is based upon a similar relationship of abused child or battered wife to the abuser.  He would seek anonymity, preferring isolation.  To survive, he could have detached himself from the abuse or any anti-social behavior commanded by Irons in order to live with the results.  In his mind, he may justify killing as just following orders.  There is no evidence that he has stood up to Irons and defied his orders so we must assume he is blindly following the orders of his abuser.  These are only speculations on my part since I have not interviewed Ian Nottingham.  Any questions?"

Dr. Danforth spoke up. "It sounds like our subject is very dangerous.  How will he react with us without Irons in the picture?"

"I am only speculating, but if my assessment is fairly accurate, he will most probably think of himself as a prisoner of war.  His only job would be to find a means to escape.   We only have the other Black Dragons to compare, since there has been more observations on them.  I plan to keep an open mind, however, wiping the slate clean until I get a chance to interview him.  I look forward to testing my theories with a detailed study of the real thing."  Parsons offered.

"Thank you, Regina.  At this point, I would like to take a quick break before we proceed to the details of our plan to acquire the illusive Mr. Nottingham.  Let's plan on being back in our seats at quarter after the hour.  Thank you, ladies and gentlemen."  Dr. Danforth left the conference room for her spacious office.  She had gestured for Stan Raynes to join her.

"Are we ready to tackle the acquisition phase of our project, Stan?  Nottingham seems pretty invincible."  She asked nervously.  She was confident in her abilities to execute testing on the subject but the procurement of such a lethal target was dangerous.

"We will be going over my plans in great detail, Rebecca.  We will not proceed unless you are comfortable with the fine points."  Stan replied.

"I know you are very familiar with devising effective strategies to acquire a target successfully, Stan, but this is the part that I am most uncertain.  It is not in my area of expertise.  Please forgive me."  She smiled as she touched his shoulder.  

They reached her office where she poured him a cup of coffee.  They sat on the sofa that would some days provide Rebecca a place to sleep on the long nights ahead.

"You know, Stan, I have been excited about this project ever since I knew I would be heading it up.  Irons has kept this scientific breakthrough to himself for long enough.  Just think how much good we can do for mankind on so many fronts."  Rebecca speculated.

Stan appreciated Rebecca's naïveté and idealism for this project.  After all, she would be the one accomplishing the project goals, but he was a realist.  His military background ingrained this in his makeup.  Stan knew that the funders of this project were really after an army of genetically enhanced soldiers like Nottingham.  Perhaps more lethal with less of a conscience, less intelligence, and more compliant than the prototype.  He was sure they would achieve this with Dr. Danforth's help.  He was being paid a great deal extra to see their goals would be accomplished and that the good Dr. Danforth stays on course and out of his way.

"Things will turn out exactly the way they should, Rebecca.  I am sure of that."  He assured her.

"We have a talented group of people to accomplish our ambitious goals.  Providing the details on Nottingham's capture are sound, it looks like we will be able to proceed very soon."

"Glad to hear it, Rebecca.  My team is ready for all contingencies with Nottingham.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to take a pause for the cause before we resume.  Thanks for the coffee.  I'll see you in the meeting room."

As Stan left her office, she walked to her desk and pulled out a very familiar file, one she had been compiling for several years.  When she first knew the project was hers, she had commissioned her own research on Nottingham.  Her career had always come first in her life.  Her two failed marriages were a testament to that.  The file quickly had become an obsession to her and contained candid photos, newspaper articles, and eyewitness accounts of his special abilities.  None of the photos did justice to his dark good looks.  Love may have failed her in the past but she knew lust never would.  To her, he had grown in stature to a legend or a myth in her mind.  She knew she had formed a dangerous attachment, one that could jeopardize this project.  She would have to be cautious.  To complete the project, Nottingham may have to be sacrificed.  As the day grew closer for her to actually meet the man, she doubted she could be the one instrumental in his elimination.  There would have to be another way.  

Would she be strong enough to do what must be done?

  


**Chapter Two**

Danny Woo, partner to Sara Pezzini, always seemed to make it into the office well before Sara, even with the responsibility of getting two kids and a wife up in the morning.  Pezzini was not known for her timeliness.  He had downed his second cup of coffee by the time she had strolled in and dropped into the desk chair across from him.

"Glad you could make it in today, Pez."  He smiled sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

"It's all that clean family living that has you in so early everyday, Danny.   If there weren't people like me around, how would anyone know how good you are by comparison?  I ask you…" She joked.

"It's Karma, Pez…and the fact that my wife can't make a good cup of coffee."

"And you think this swill is coffee…Jeez, your wife must filter your coffee with your old socks. That might even be an improvement."

"Speaking of your tall and dark roasted shadow, have you seen Nottingham recently?"  Danny asked.

"He's usually around.  Why?"

"We received a tip last night via email.  It seems there may be some illegal arms activity going on in a warehouse that may be owned by Kenneth Irons.  Something doesn't feel right about it though…Irons is too smart to get caught this stupidly.  The email was anonymous, too."

"You're right.  Smells like sushi to me.  Let's go take a peek, shall we?"

Danny and Sara left the Eleventh Precinct in an unmarked blue Chevy Caprice with Danny behind the wheel.  They stopped for some Starbucks coffee and some blueberry muffins before proceeding to the warehouse off Center Street.  As they drank the much-improved version of coffee and had breakfast, the Witchblade bracelet on Sara's wrist started to swirl an angry red color, signifying danger.  Sara had grown more accustomed to the feel of the ancient weapon that had selected her as its wielder.  She could feel Nottingham's presence as well.  

Something was wrong.  She sensed it.

Ian Nottingham was indeed nearby.  He had awoken early to follow Sara throughout her day.  Some people might classify his surveillance as stalking.  He was perplexed with her and Danny's stakeout of Irons' warehouse.  He placed a call to Irons.

"Yes, Ian?  Where are you?"  Irons queried.

"I am following Sara, but she and her partner are outside of one of your warehouses near Center Street.  They appear to be staking out the building.  There also seems to be some activity inside.  I can hear it but Sara and Danny do not appear to be aware of it as yet.  I thought this building was empty."  Nottingham questioned.

"Yes…it is supposed to be.  If there is activity, it is without my permission.  Maybe you should join the party.  Call me after you know more."  Irons commanded, ending the call.

Nottingham placed the cell phone into the pocket of his long black wool coat.  His shoulder-length wavy black hair, with a single blond streak on one side, was worn loose today.  He had recently trimmed his black beard closer to his face.  His dark eyes taking in every detail of the street.  His enhanced hearing allowed him to discern voices and movement in the nearby warehouse.  He could also hear the occasional comments between Danny and Sara in their unmarked car even though the windows were up and the heater on.  Nottingham cautiously approached the car from the front.  He did not relish getting shot by Sara by mistake.  At least, he hoped it would have been by mistake.

"Well, look who it is…" Danny was the first to see the dark figure approaching their car.

"This should be interesting."  Sara added.

Nottingham tapped on the rear door of the vehicle.  Against her better judgement, Sara leaned back to open the door and let him in.  He slid into the back seat in one fluid motion.

"Hey, Nottingham."  Sara offered.

"Hey, Sara…Danny."  Came the reply.

"I suppose you were just jogging by on your way to work…across town." Sara quipped.

"Actually I was on a walking tour of the old historical warehouse district when I noticed your car.  Don't you just love these old buildings?"  Nottingham replied as truthfully as could be believed.

"A history buff…well, I guess we did meet in a museum."  She added.  Danny suppressed a snicker, shaking his head while he continued to watch the building.

"Don't you think it strange that there is activity in a deserted warehouse, Sara?  Irons is concerned there may be something illegal happening on one of his properties without his knowledge or express permission."

Sara and Danny had not seen any activity in the warehouse but she knew Nottingham had heightened senses and could be aware of sights and sounds she and her partner could not.  She also did not doubt his ability to detect an illegal operation from afar.

"So you are here to oversee our investigation…insuring the safety of your employer's property?  Is that it, Nottingham?"  She continued.

"Exactly, Sara.  I could not have said it better myself."

"You are a piece of work…you know that?   Come on.  Let's get this over with.  Nottingham, since you are representing your employer's interests, you can come with us but I want you to stay well behind until we have secured the area.  Do you understand?"

"You are concerned for my safety, Sara?  I appreciate that…really, I do."  He smiled.

Sara took a deep breath, shook her head before opening the car door.  It was going to be a very long day.

"I'll take the front, Pez.  You take the back.  Do you really think Nottingham will do what you asked?"  Danny whispered, gun drawn and raised.

"No, but it won't hurt to have his help if we need it.  Give me three minutes.  Keep your head down, partner."  

Sara pulled her weapon and took off at a trot towards the alley at the rear of the warehouse.  As she rounded the corner, she looked back to see where Nottingham was located.  Just as suspected, he was nowhere to be found.

Sara could see a rear door propped open by a wooden crate.  An empty truck complete with ramp was parked further down the alley.  With her back to the brick wall of the warehouse, she eased her way towards the door.  Nottingham's voice came to her as a whisper from inside her own head. 

"Be careful, Sara.  There was a sentry posted."

She turned to look down the alley to see if he was indeed whispering to her.  He was not to be found.  His voice came again, emerging from her very thoughts.

"You are in danger, Sara.  There was a sentry posted who has undoubtedly warned others inside the building.  Forewarned is forearmed.  Be careful."  Among all his other freakish qualities, Nottingham was telepathic.  This day was getting stranger by the minute.

Further down the alley was a fire escape that led to a second floor window.  The propped door seemed too easy of a set up.  She took the stairs two at a time hoping Danny was not in trouble while she debated her entrance.  The window opened easily.  She raised her leg to step through the window and onto the second floor catwalk.  Discarded boxes concealed her entry but also obscured her view.  She peered through the largest crate just as Danny was entering the front door.  As Nottingham had expected, it was a set up.

After giving Pez her three minutes, Danny pushed open the front door with his right shoulder, his back against the outside wall.  He could not hear any movement and decided to take the next step.  Just as he stepped into the deserted warehouse, two men jumped him from behind the door.  He struggled against their grip without success.  The men were wearing some kind of uniform, navy in color, with a company logo embroidered on the right shoulder.  Ski masks completed the look.  Danny felt something prick his neck.  Heat radiated from the spot then sent chills down his spine.  The second floor windows dimmed, then the whole room went black.  He was down for the count.  His unconscious body was dragged to the center of the ground floor.

Glancing through the wooden crates gave her a limited view but Sara counted five men dressed in navy uniforms from what looked like a moving company.  As the men were preoccupied with Danny, she made her way to the first floor.  Where was Nottingham?  She leveled her gun, walking cautiously towards the men, confident she could handle five of them.

"Freeze…NYPD.  Put your weapons down."  She commanded loudly.

The men complied.  This was far too easy.  The Witchblade began to transform itself on her wrist.  The heat from the swirling red color was palpable.  Any moment, the bracelet would alter itself into the ancient weapon it was.

From the second floor, Nottingham had been a witness to what had transpired thus far.  He had hoped to observe Sara handling the situation, but she had not seen the group of men to the rear of the warehouse.  It had indeed been a trap.  He counted fifteen men in all.  One of the men was video taping the encounter.  Sara would need his help.

Sara heard the footsteps behind her a little too late.  As she turned, she heard the voice of the leader of the group.

"Put your weapon down, Detective Pezzini.  No one has to get hurt.  Your partner is only sedated."

Sara turned slowly around to see she had missed a little on the count.  Ten more men were behind her.  They were well armed.  The leader wore a ski mask like the others.

"What do you want…besides some assistance from the fashion police?  How do you know who I am?"  She asked, lowering her gun carefully to the floor.

"How we know who you are is not important, Ms. Pezzini.  We came here for something and you are going to help us get it."  He replied cryptically.

Nottingham had crept as close as he could without being seen.  He positioned himself on the second floor catwalk just behind the ten men who had joined the party late.  To help Sara, he would have to walk into the lion's den without cover. Why not make an entrance, he thought.

Nottingham hurled his body headlong over the second floor railing, his body making a complete flip as he righted himself on the ground floor as agile as a panther.  Most of the armed men notice the feat and backed away from the rear of the warehouse in awe, leaving Nottingham access to Sara.  He pulled a sword from his long coat, cutting slow graceful circles in the air with the glistening blade, as he walked casually to Sara's side.  His head tilted slightly to one side as he looked into the individual faces of each man before him.  The look sent chills down each man's spine for they knew they would soon be in combat with someone engineered to be super human.  There was going to be trouble.   As if that was not enough, Sara willed the Witchblade to full armament, replete with a sword of its own.  The standoff was complete, leaving only the question of who would be making the first move.

"Glad you could make the party, Nottingham."

"Would not miss it, Sara."

"Come on, Nottingham.  The lady does not have to get hurt."  Stan Raynes, the leader of the armed men tried to avoid blood shed, especially his own.  He had a lifetime of fighting and did not relish one more skirmish if he could avoid it.

"The lady can defend herself.  I am just here to make sure my employer's property is not harmed.  You know how expensive New York City real estate is these days."   Nottingham stepped to Sara's left, giving him more room for his blade.

"The odds are a little unfair, Nottingham.  Don't you think?" Sara asked.

"I suppose…maybe we should allow them to call for reinforcements."  He replied with a lethal smile.

Detective Pezzini's willingness to fight was the 'fly in the ointment'.  Raynes had not counted on that.  He glanced over his shoulder at their backup plan.  The strobe light had been tested and was in working order.  As he pulled closer to the control apparatus, his men opened their ranks to draw Nottingham and Sara into the circle.  As the movement was initiated, Sara and Nottingham took out the first three men so quickly; their comrades failed to react in time to save them.  In a panic, bullets started to fly.  Sara deflected the bullets with the Witchblade, while Nottingham dodged them with unbelievable speed.  This was not possible.  Raynes knew it was out of control.  He ran towards the strobe light control.  If he did not take Nottingham out of the picture soon, his men would be dead. 

By the time Raynes got control of the strobe light, Nottingham and Sara were facing the last seven men.  They worked in unison, as if they had trained together for a very long time.  Their movements were so fluid and intuitive.  As Nottingham would turn to face his next victim, Sara would counter and cover his back, taking on her next combatant.  There was more to this relationship than he had presumed…much more.  The dead and wounded lay bleeding on the warehouse floor.  The videotape still being shot would document Raynes' pitiable failure. 

Raynes waited for Nottingham to face the strobe.  As he did so, the lights pierced the dark of the warehouse, stopping Nottingham in his tracks.  His head snapped back as his body shook uncontrollably.  He slumped to his knees, mesmerized, never taking his eyes from the strobe.  His body quaking violently with the pulsating light.  Raynes had to administer the sedative himself and quickly.  He grabbed Nottingham by the hair, jabbing the needle into his neck.  Raynes held on until the last of the Black Dragons was unconscious, allowing his body to drop to the floor unceremoniously.

Sara, who had kept on fighting, caught Nottingham's fall from the corner of her eye.

"Ian…No!"  She cried.

"Stop the fighting, Sara."  The leader demanded.  Sara turned to see him standing over Danny with a gun to his head.  "No one else needs to be hurt.  We have what we came for."

Out of concern for her partner, Sara stopped fighting but kept a healthy distance from the men still standing.

"What do you want with Ian?"  She asked.

"Let's just say he is one of a kind and deserves future study."  

Raynes continued to hold Sara at bay threatening the life of her partner.  His men loaded Nottingham onto a gurney and wheeled him to the nearby truck in the alley using the side entrance.  The dead and wounded were also loaded onto the truck.  Her report would be suspect without Danny as her witness.  The blood on the floor of the warehouse would be the only evidence of the massacre.  The day that had started out so poorly was now officially in the crapper.

"Have a nice life, Sara.  If you know what's good for you, you will not pursue this.  Forget anything ever happened here."  Raynes advised as he backed out the door.

"You don't know Irons very well, pal."  Sara said under her breath as she attended to her partner.

Raynes climbed into the cab of the truck.  Blood splatter discolored the front of his uniform.  He wondered whose blood.  He thought that most of his men could be saved, but there were five men dead for sure.  He had hoped for a more auspicious beginning for his part in the project.  This was an ominous initiation.

Having come away with Nottingham was a shallow victory in light of the dead and injured.  None the less, Rebecca would have her lab rat and the project funders would have their elite fighting force.  Raynes would have to be content with that.

He radioed ahead to Dr. Danforth.  The acquisition phase of the project was complete with relative success but at a very high cost.  Nottingham was delivered to the underground facility after a three-hour drive north of the city.  A helicopter had met the truck in route, offloading the most critically wounded.  They were evacuated to the facilities clinic for immediate attention.  Nothing could be done for the dead.  They remained in the truck and were secretly dispatched with special care to keep the outcome of the endeavor classified.  It would not bode well for team members to know the extent of the casualties. Rebecca received the news with mixed feelings.  She would pray for the dead and wounded, but she now could start the project she knew would be the most significant research in decades.  It would herald the genesis of a new race of mankind.  

Certainly, the sacrifice made here today would count for something.

  


**Chapter Three**

Back in New York City, Sara had called for help to get Danny to a hospital.  A sedative was confirmed and Danny would be going home as soon as he awoke.  As predicted, no one at the Eleventh Precinct believed her massacre tale of death and destruction, but no one could deny the large amount of bloodstains at the scene.  It was a mercy that Danny did not witness the event.  He would not have believed Sara fighting side by side with Kenneth Irons' henchman, Ian Nottingham.  She had dreaded making the call she was making now most of all.  Kenneth Irons would have to be notified.

"Hello, Sara.  To what do I owe this pleasure?"  She had always hated that he knew she was calling, caller ID or not.

"I'm sorry to inform you that Ian was abducted from the warehouse this morning…the one he was investigating for you."

There was a disturbing silence on the line.

"Tell me, Sara.  How was he taken?"  He asked simply.

"We were fighting a large group of heavily armed men in uniform and ski masks.  We had taken out most of their men when their leader hit Ian with a strobe light.  It dropped him like a rock.  I wouldn't have believe it if I had not seen it with my own eyes."  She answered.

"A strobe light, you say?  Then they know about Ian."  Irons responded absentmindedly.

"Know what about Ian, Mr. Irons?"

"Sara, we need to talk.  Can you come by the mansion as soon as possible?  Please."  He asked.  Please was not a word in Kenneth Irons' vocabulary.  This made Sara even more worried.

"I'm on my way."  

Sara rode her motorcycle to the heavily guarded Irons' estate.  The security looked as if it had been ramped up since the disappearance of Nottingham.  Irons received her in the Great Room.  The fire was ablaze in the hearth.  The chill in the air seemed to emanate from Irons himself.  She chose to stand while she delivered her sketchy account of the morning.

"Tell me everything…start to finish." He demanded, as he sat in his winged back chair near the fire.

Sara retold the story without leaving out a detail, except for the telepathic message Nottingham had conveyed to her before she entered the warehouse.  She decided to keep that one a secret.  She would also not share just how much she loved fighting along side Nottingham, as if she had spent a lifetime doing just that.  She knew without a doubt that she could trust him to cover her back.

"And you say they were video taping the onslaught?"

"Yes, they did.  When I asked why they wanted Ian, they replied he was 'one of a kind' and 'deserves future study'…something to that effect.  Do you know what they meant by that, Mr. Irons?"  Sara asked.

Irons remained quiet for a long while, pondering just how much to share with Sara.  After a couple of minutes, he responded.

"Ian has been genetically and chemically enhanced to perform his special skills under my employ.  I am sure you have seen some of these, Sara.  There are those who would perhaps like to study him further…pull him apart to see how he ticks, so to speak.  I would not like this to happen."

"That sounded almost sincere."  Sara reacted with sarcasm to his clinical response.

"Okay, that was a bit unfeeling.  I do care what happens to Ian.  He is like a son to me.  I need your help to bring him back home safely.  What is being done?"  Irons added.

"The warehouse has had a team of investigators dusting for prints all afternoon.  We have an APB out on the truck.  The moving company name does not exist.  So far, we don't have anything."

"I doubt there will be a demand for ransom.  I would pay any price to get Ian back but a kidnapper would not live long enough to see the money." Irons stared into the fire.

"I'll call you if there is anything new to report.  We'll find him."  She offered optimistically.

"I have no doubt we will, but will he be alive, Sara?  That is the real question."  Irons did not get up as Sara left the room.  He was plotting his own course of action.  With his financial resources, he would make certain he carried out his own brand of justice.  Ian's abductors would regret the day they planned this incursion into the life of Kenneth Irons.

Sara rode off the estate on her bike; the sound of her engine did not drown out the doubts in her head.  She had grown to trust in the Witchblade, but would it fall silent when it came time to save Ian's life?  The discovery of the video would certainly end her career in the NYPD and make her the hot front page of the Enquirer, alongside the alien baby and three-headed cow.  She hoped Nottingham could contact her again telepathically.  Maybe he could provide a lead.  

As of now, they had nothing.

  


**Chapter Four**

The three hours waiting for Nottingham to arrive via truck was the longest three hours in Dr. Danforth's life.  She was anxious to jump start the project for which she had been preparing for the last three years, but the thought of finally seeing Nottingham in the flesh sent her stomach into flip flops.  She tried to keep busy at her desk, but found herself sneaking a peek at the surveillance cameras poised at the front gate of the compound.  It took all her self-control to wait until the truck was pulled into the loading bay, the dead were dispatched, and her prize transported to his cell.  She received a call from Raynes, who sounded quite weary.

"He's here.  We have him strapped to the bed in his cell and his vitals being monitored.  We had to remove his clothing and clean him up so the staff wouldn't see all the blood.  We dressed him in the coveralls and footwear you had left in his cell."  Raynes let the medical staff take charge while he reported in quietly to Dr. Danforth.

"I'll be right down.  Is he hurt at all?"  She tried to sound preoccupied and was sure she had failed.

"No…the bastard."

Most of the staff had left by the time Rebecca had entered the cell.  Raynes had informed an attending nurse that he had stepped down the hall to clean up and would be back momentarily.  The nurse had stayed long enough to deliver the message then depart.  It was perfect.  She was alone with him now.

She slowly approached the bed where he was bound.  His broad chest rising and falling with every breath, steady and stable.  Dark, wavy strands of hair lay across the pillow.  The streak of blond in his hair looked natural.  She could not imagine him being vain enough to have it artificially done.  His eyelashes were thick and long.  She knew it would be worth the wait to see his eyes open.

She touched the skin on his arm.  It was warm to the touch.  What must it feel like to curl up, resting your head on his shoulder as you slept?  As a pretense to touch him, she unzipped the front of his coveralls to slip her stethoscope onto his warm chest.

"Maybe you two should get a room?"  Raynes imposed.

Rebecca smiled awkwardly, resenting the intrusion.  Raynes could be very crude at times.

"We have him set up for two full days of tests.  MRI, CAT scan, blood work-up, tissue biopsies, and assorted other tortures.  We have to take advantage of his unconscious state.  If we don't get everything done, we can always keep him under another day.  This is the easy part.  Once he is awake, the real fun will begin.  Will this cell hold him securely, Stan?"  Dr. Danforth asked.

The cell was a twelve-by-twelve cage of metal bars bolted to the floor of a much larger room with a twenty-foot ceiling.  A sound proof control center was above and to the right of the cage.  The various observers and research personnel could come and go with relative anonymity, and converse in private.  Video recordings with sound would document every moment of Nottingham's incarceration.  Inside the cage was a hospital bed, complete with constraints.  His vitals were being monitored by equipment that would be removed when he was fully awake.  A stainless steel sink and a matching commode were in the far corner, without benefit of walls.  The only privacy for their subject would be if he turned his back on the control room.  The only exercise was provided in the form of a punching bag suspended from above by a thick, steel chain.  Food and water would be brought in from the cafeteria each day.  Only plastic cups and bowls would be used without utensils.  Nottingham would have to eat with his hands.

"He's in an underground bunker, in the middle of nowhere, in a metal cage.  He's not going anywhere."  Raynes replied.  He was growing impatient with the good doctor's pretension as his superior.

Dr. Danforth knew her staff would regulate Nottingham's sedation throughout the night.  She shut and locked the cell, leaving an overhead light on over the cage.  With Raynes watching her every move, she would just have to wait until morning to see him again.  

After a restless sleep, Rebecca was up at dawn to usher him to the various appointments for the day.  Since the MRI, CAT scan, and X-rays would take the most time, they were first on the agenda.  All blood work would be done thereafter: chemistry profile, lipid and thyroid profiles, CBC, DNA analysis, and drug screen.  Various tissue biopsies were scheduled for the next day.  Nottingham, still unconscious, was taken by gurney from lab to lab.  Since he was the official lab rat, all staff members showed keen interest in him as he was taken to his appointed rounds.

By late afternoon, Nottingham was brought back to his cell and strapped down for the night.  An IV was administered to hydrate and provide nourishment while he was sedated.  The cafeteria was abuzz with excitement over the day's activities with the subject.  The project had officially started.  The male staffers talked about the rumors of Nottingham's enhanced senses while the women talked mostly about his physical attributes.  All in all, it was a very good start.  Dr. Danforth was proud of what they had accomplished thus far.  

She retreated to her office to view the video recording of the warehouse acquisition of Nottingham.  Raynes had reluctantly turned the video over to her with a promise she would return it as soon as possible.  The recording started with the sedation of Detective Danny Woo, then proceeded to the disarming of Detective Sara Pezzini.  It didn't get truly interesting until Nottingham flipped over the back railing, brandishing a sword, and eased alongside Pezzini who had an ancient weapon of her own.  Watching them fight side by side, Rebecca could only wonder what their relationship was all about.  She was also fascinated with the effectiveness of the strobe.  Even though the video marked the deaths of many of the project's security personnel, it was an amazing piece of footage.  She made a copy for her private file.

Rebecca's last stop for the evening was to Nottingham's cell.  The nursing staff had reported him restless even though he was sedated, as if he were fighting it.  She entered the control room first, allowing the night staff on duty to take a dinner break around midnight.  She turned off the video and sound, then entered the cage.  As she pulled a stool near his bed, he appeared feverish and was indeed restless, pulling against the constraints.  She began to speak to him, her voice barely above a whisper, as she leaned onto the bed near his face.  Her voice seemed to calm him.  His breathing stabilized and he stopped tugging at the lashes.  She continued to talk to him about her life, what she hoped to accomplish, and spoke candidly of her thoughts of him.  He remained calm, seeming to listen to her every word.  She had him to herself for an hour.  

As the night personnel returned from their dinner hour, she administered his sedative via the IV, and proceeded to power up the video and sound equipment.  Tomorrow would be a harder day on him.  She was determined to put Nottingham through only one more day of this.  Then, he would be allowed to awaken and the real fun would begin.

  


**Chapter Five**

Kenneth Irons sat behind his desk peering out one of the large windows to his right.  The security monitors for the Vorschlag building and CNN were muted and played mindlessly on the flat-screened monitors placed strategically around the room.  Seated, he could only see the gray cloudless sky.  The color was befitting his mood.  He had sat alone in this office many times before, but knowing young Nottingham may never join him here again left an unexpected emptiness in him.  Ian was his confidant in all things, regardless of how unsavory.  There was no pretence of civility, no attentiveness to being politically correct.  Irons was not fooled into thinking their relationship was borne of friendship.  He himself had seen to that in Nottingham's upbringing and training.  Yet, it was as close to companionship as he would enjoy in his lifetime.

He was pondering the events that had transpired since he had last seen Detective Pezzini.  The details Sara had reported to him indicated there was a genetics connection.  After all, they appeared to know about the strobe light and how it might affect Nottingham.  And the leader of the group made reference to Ian 'deserving future study'.  It also had to be well funded given the risk and planning that had been apparent in this abduction.  If indeed there was a genetics connection, Irons was certain he could follow the money and the paper trail to the location they were holding Ian.  

Irons had already put feelers out, with money attached, to his contacts in the genetics lab equipment community.  There had to be some news on a new facility in New York State.   He had to make an assumption that the facility was in New York State since a truck was used by the kidnappers, and no truck had been discarded for the police to find, as Sara had dutifully reported yesterday.  There was also a paper trail for licensing and permits for genetics type labs.  He had also thrown some money at that bit of research.  

Earlier that day, one of the permit inquiries had produced a lead on two new facilities in upstate New York area.  One of the facilities seemed legitimate, but there was a question on whether the other was a cancer research facility or a genetics lab.  There were inconsistencies between the local rumors, the permits, and the equipment ordered.  This lead seemed the most promising.  The lab was located just outside of Sarasota Springs in a facility once owned by Genesis Corporation.  He would hear something definitive soon.

He was now formulating a plan to destroy the perpetrators of this offense against him.  He would call in a few markers and pay handsomely to those willing to form a small army to invade the location once it was found.  Every last detail was coming together as he brooded in his office.  He would annihilate each person associated with this, along with all the research obtained.  Their shiny new facility would be obliterated. He could not afford to have any evidence of this transgression be discovered.  

Irons would ensure that someone would pay.

As Irons was plotting his revenge, Sara had a stroke of good luck when a state trooper had reported a sighting of the truck used to transport Nottingham.  Unfortunately, it had been a little late in coming since the officer was going off duty for two days and did not see the APB until his return.  The only reason he remembered seeing the truck was that it had turned up a side road that the officer thought went nowhere.  It had been strange to see a moving truck in such an unpopulated area.  The sighting was near Sarasota Springs, just three hours north of New York City.  There was no telling if this lead would pan out but it was worth a shot.  After talking to the officer on the phone, Sara and Danny decided to make the drive.  They were on the road by noon.  Depending on what they found, they would call for backup, knowing it would take some time before help would arrive.  Sara decided to delay informing Irons of this latest detail.  He had been sullen the last time they spoke and Sara had the distinct impression Irons was plotting his own form of retribution.  She did not want to add fuel to that fire.  He had the money to really mess things up and cause quite a scandal.  She was determined to administer justice lawfully.

"Wife wasn't too happy with the overnighter?"  Sara quipped.  The last minute trip out of town did not set well with Danny's wife who was not all together pleased her husband had a female partner.

"Let's just say I'm not on her top ten list right now."  Danny pouted as he sat on the passenger side.

"Ouch…top ten.  Is that just after the hamster and your dirty laundry?"  Sara was getting very disrespectful as their road trip continued.

"Pretty much."  He sighed.

"Well, this may be a wild goose chase and we could be back late tonight.  Maybe then you could take your rightful status between the hamster and Oprah."  She snickered as she watched the road ahead.

"Okay…I am instituting the 'Code of the Road' here.  Whatever we say on this trip stays between the two of us."  Danny blurted out.  Sara looked at her partner questioningly.

"What is going on between you and Nottingham?  You don't have to answer me, but I just know how you are attracted to 'bad boys' and I just had to ask."  Danny continued.

Sara took a long while to answer the question.  Up until two days ago, she may have responded that there was nothing in particular happening between them.  She would be lying, of course, but she could skate by on that for a while.  The last two days, however, made her realize just how much she had missed her shadow.  Others may have been unnerved by the way he stalked her, but she was strangely comforted by it.  The Witchblade was a life altering experience.  She had accepted its challenge and had chosen to wield her own brand of justice with it, but it terrified her as well.  Nottingham's constant scrutiny made her feel like she was not alone.  He had always been there for her even when he was his most cryptic.  She actually missed him.

"I don't know Danny.  Let's just say that you may be right…there may be something to what you say.  Nothing has happened, mind you, but that is not to say that I would object if something did." She confessed.

"Oh brother…The cop and the assassin.  I knew it.  Just proceed with caution, Sara.  That is all I will say about it."

"I appreciate that, partner…I really do."  Sara smiled, truly valuing the friendship she had with the man sitting next to her.

It took them just under three hours to arrive at the state trooper's office off Interstate 87.  Trooper Gary Wellman was waiting for them.  He joined them in their unmarked Chevy Caprice to show them the road where he had last spotted the moving truck.  As they looked around the area, they knew he had been right to be suspicious.  A moving van or truck would have stood out.

"What is up this road, Gary?" Sara asked.

"I'm too new to tell you for sure, but I've been asking around the office.  Seems there used to be a medical facility of some type back here…in the late 1970s.  It was some kind of bunker, hard to see from the road.  There has been some recent activity 'cause they are doing some kind of cancer research there now.  That's the rumor anyway.  Haven't seen it myself."  The trooper offered.

"Bunker facility…hard to see…rumors of some type of research facility…sounds like something worth checking into, Pez.  Guess I'll be off the top ten list for a while."  Danny speculated.  Trooper Wellman looked questioningly at Sara who was smiling politely.

"Is there a place we can stay overnight?"  She asked.

For the first time in two days, Sara was hopeful.  She could feel Nottingham's presence here.  This was not something she could share with her partner but it would help her confidence to know she was right in making the three-hour drive to Sarasota Springs.  She knew they would need to prepare for a little overnight reconnaissance.  They needed a plan.  

Just over the nearby rise, the Genesis Corporation facility loomed.  Within it, Nottingham could feel Sara's presence as she drew nearer.  His time here was short.  He had hoped to learn more about the staff and their purpose with regard to him.  Sara showing up before Irons was a good sign.  Maybe there would not have to be unnecessary bloodshed.

He had spent his morning trying to stretch, shaking off the grogginess he had felt being sedated for so long.  He was also a bit sore from all the tissue samples and biopsies performed on him yesterday.  The best distraction for him was a good workout.  In the control room, Dr. Rebecca Danforth had joined the rest of her nurses in watching Nottingham exercise.  For the last two days, he had been immobile.  Now, he was punishing the punching bag with his powerful moves.  He had pulled the top half of his coveralls down to minimize the sweat stains.  The spinning kicks and combination punches were a great way for him to feel in control again.  The sweat streamed off his back.  This was probably not good for some of the fresh wounds he had sustained, but he needed this.  

The control room had been full of shameless chatter from the nurses, but this had ceased when Dr. Danforth entered the room.  She would have loved to be here alone, but she would be able to view the videotape soon enough.  It would be another addition to her obsession file.  His powerful moves and muscled body were hard to forget.  Dr. Danforth cleared the room and proceeded down to officially meet her subject for the first time.  As she neared the cell, her breathing elevated at the sight of his body in action up close.  She hoped her facial expression would not give her away.

"My name is Dr. Rebecca Danforth."

There was no response.  He continued to inflict abuse onto the punching bag, his intense brown eyes never straying from their target.  The strength of his jabs echoed eerily in the larger chamber and vibrated the metal bars of the cell.  She knew that any one of his punches could inflict serious damage to the human body.  He pummeled the bag as if she were not there at all.

"I have been wanting to meet you for a very long time."  She added.

After a few more blows, he stopped for a moment to grace her with a steamy look from his extraordinary, chestnut-colored eyes.  He was rightfully annoyed, to say the least.  Turning his back on her, he walked over to the sink, sticking his head under the faucet.  The cool water soaked his hair, then the rest of his body when he stood upright, sweat and water made his body glisten.  He continued to ignore her, walking to the far corner of the cell, slowly stretching and cooling down.

"You will probably need your wounds to be checked, dressings changed." 

"I won't be here that long."  He replied as he stood nearer the cell bars, an intimating sight, his eyes never wavering from hers.

"Oh really.  Well, how do you propose to get away?  You don't even know where you are?"  She smiled triumphantly.  He looked at her a long minute before answering.

"Just correct me when I am wrong…We are in an underground facility.  The air intake system…it is re-circulated and I do not smell an over abundance of fresh air coming in.  I also smell the chlorine from a pool.  The sounds from the pool echo in such a way as to tell me it is underground as well.  The movie theatre is a nice touch.  First run movies also.  That tells me this project is well funded and someone wants everyone to stay put, not leave the facility.  How am I doing so far?"

The expression on Rebecca's face was all the answer he needed to continue.

"I believe we are still in New York State.  The truck in the alley near the warehouse was probably used to transport the dead and wounded.  An airplane would have drawn too much attention.  We are probably in upstate New York…someplace rural…otherwise; this type of facility would have too many people asking questions.  Right or wrong, Doctor?"  He asked, one hand across his heart, bowing slightly.

"Very impressive, but so what?  No one knows you are here."

"Maybe not.  But that is only because I have not asked for help.  Believe me, you don't want Irons to know where you are."

"He's a public figure.  What would he do to us?"

Nottingham laughed for the first time since his capture.  It was not a joyful sound.

"You obviously have not done your homework on Kenneth Irons.  Those that have underestimated him in the past have not lived long enough to talk about it.  Are you really that naïve?   Do you really think those funding this project are looking for solutions to better mankind?  They only want to make others like me.  This is all about control and power, nothing more.  I have been around the King of Power my whole life."

"You are wrong.  Our project is about spreading the wealth of this type of research.  Irons has been keeping this to himself for far too long.  There could be a new race of mankind.  It is worth the sacrifice you are making."

"Oh, I appreciate you accepting my sacrifice so cavalierly. Tell me, does anyone on your staff have a military background, maybe still has connections?"

"Yes.  He is head of security."

"Do yourself a little favor and check into his activities since I was brought here.  I bet he is on someone else's payroll."

Rebecca folded her arms across her chest.  She had harbored such thoughts herself about Raynes.

"Look, Rebecca…Dr. Danforth.  Maybe I am just being overly cynical but I have experience with men like this.  Your career and this project are not worth your life, no matter how noble the cause."

His expression softened.  How did he know so much about her and this project?  The nights she had spent with him while he was sedated, she had spent talking to an unconscious man. How could he understand and remember?  This was not possible.

"I just want you to know, when the time comes, you can come to me for help.  This place may end up a war zone.  Have an evacuation plan for your people.  Even your head of security will be unprepared for what Irons could unleash.  Don't wait until it is too late."

Rebecca left Nottingham in his cell, but his words were still ringing in her ears.  'Don't wait until it's too late.'  She entered the control room and removed the tape of their conversation.  Raynes would not see it.

She walked blindly back to her office.  Sitting behind her desk, she began to use her authority to scan the proprietary emails from Raynes.  Being the head of the project gave her such license.  It was not long before she discovered a very damning memo sent to an anonymous location.  The email proposed Raynes inject 'the subject' with a new experimental chemical designed to further enhance physical performance and mental abilities.  It warned the side effects could be devastating.  Addictive in nature, the drug could cause irreparable damage, but once the samples and tests were concluded on Nottingham, they would have nothing to loose.  Nottingham was expendable.

Rebecca sat back in her chair, staring at her computer monitor, reading the word 'expendable' over and over.  She would never be allowed to complete the project as she had hoped.  Her career, her goals and ambition, were all being discarded by the faceless money people behind this project.

'Don't wait until it's too late.'  Chills rolled down her spine.  She was expendable, too.

  


**Chapter Six**

Dr. Danforth had entered the control room to allow the night crew to take their dinner break, as she had done over the last several nights.  She was about to turn off the video and sound when she noticed Raynes was walking toward Nottingham's cell.  She sat down so as not to be conspicuous, so she could eavesdrop.  

As Raynes approached the cell, he noticed Nottingham appeared to be meditating.  His legs were folded and his hands rested on his knees.  Eyes closed, he inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth.  

"You killed and wounded a good number of my men."

Raynes thought his opening remark warranted a comment from Nottingham.  None was forthcoming.  His eyes did not even open.  Raynes was not accustomed to such insubordination.  

"You have no guilt over this, do you?"  He asked.

Nottingham slowly opened his eyes.  He arose from his seated position and walked towards Raynes, with only the bars between them.

"Do you?  You were in command, were you not? You planned the attack."  Chin down, Nottingham's head titled to one side.  His eyes staring accusingly into the older man's.  When no answer came from Raynes, Nottingham continued.

"You and the money men behind this project only want blind obedience…a guiltless compliant army of superior beings.  Isn't that right?  You would create an army like me, then stand here trying to see if I feel guilty about killing?  Just who is the sick bastard in all of this?"  He accused.

"I hope you don't think of yourself as a human being.  There is nothing human about you."  Raynes was growing more enraged by the minute.

"I am what men like you have made me.  Chemicals and enhanced genetics were taken willingly by a child too young to object…too gullible to know better.  What is your excuse?  Your deviancy is a choice…a way of life.  Your involvement with this project shows just how willing you are to bring such an army to fruition.  And Rebecca, what are your plans for her?"  Nottingham asked.

"She's collateral damage…just like you are expendable.  All we needed was you, the prototype, to test and take tissue samples.  We can build an even better version than Irons.  You ask too many questions…you think too much for yourself.  That might work for Irons, but not for this project."

"Beware of opening Pandora's box, Generalismo.  Commanding a superior force of mercenaries who can see through your weaknesses would be a fatal mistake for someone like you.  We would be your worst nightmare."  Nottingham stepped closer to the bars of the cell.  Instinctively, the older man jumped back.  The intimidation was complete.  Raynes had blinked.  Nottingham now owned the man.

Her head of security did not know Rebecca had heard every word.  She removed the video and replaced it with a blank.  She would have proof of Raynes subversive dealings behind her back.  Heading back to her office, she would return to Nottingham's cell later tonight to help him escape.  

Her involvement with this project was at an end.

Just outside the perimeter of the property owned by Genesis Corporation, Sara and Danny were located on a small hill overlooking the facility.  They had purchased some binoculars from a local hunting store.  Being out in the country at midnight, it was almost too dark to see anything, but infrared equipment was not available in this remote location.

"Looks like there's a loading bay on the side…very dimly lit.  We might be able to gain access there."  Sara whispered as she spied on the location from afar.  The Witchblade had been active most of the night.  She tried to hide the swirling color from Danny but the bracelet glowed in the dark.  When he had asked her about it earlier, she compared it to a mood ring, saying she was anxious about this evening.  He seemed to buy it.  With her partner present, Sara would have to curtail using the Witchblade unless it was a matter of life and death, which was not out of the realm of possibility.

"Sara…you realize we are out of our jurisdiction…and that we have not witnessed any illegal activities, yet you want me to trust your gut instincts on this?"  Her partner asked.

"Well, when you put it that way…that would be foolish of you, wouldn't it?"

"Pez, you know I trust you.  I'm just not sure what we are doing here."

Movement from the right, in the darkness, caught Sara's attention.  She adjusted her binoculars to follow it.  More than a dozen men, perhaps twenty, dressed in black and well armed, charged over the rise and surrounded the loading bay.

"I think you are about to get an answer to your question, partner."  Sara replied calmly.

"They aren't locals, Pez.  Don't think Trooper Gary would have the connections."  Danny observed.

Sara did not offer her own speculation, but she had a feeling these men had been hired by Kenneth Irons.  The pieces were coming together.  While Danny and Sara had been doing their own investigation, Irons was plotting a rescue…and one that was not exactly legal.

The weapons of the invasion force looked as if they were fitted with silencers.  This would be a stealth operation.  One of the men blew the loading bay door with a small amount of C-4.  The explosion was minimal but effective.  The men hit the door running.  It would not take long for such a well-organized force to completely overtake this facility of researchers in the middle of the night.  Sara and Danny waited long enough to observe that two men remained on the outside to guard against intrusion and to protect their retreat.  They split up to take these men out as quietly as possible, then entered the loading bay, guns drawn.

Rebecca Danforth was in her office when the sound of the C-4 explosion rumbled through the otherwise quiet facility.  She knew Nottingham had been right.  Maybe she had waited too long indeed.  Gathering up files and tapes into her brief case, She ran down the hall towards his cell.  Regina Parsons, her resident psychiatrist, almost ran into her as she darted out of her dorm room in her pajamas and robe.

"What is happening?  Is it an earthquake?"  Regina asked, starting to panic.

"Worse.  Come with me."  

Rebecca grabbed Parson's hand; practically dragging her to the only man able to help.  The spitting sound of silenced gunfire was coming their way.  She wondered just how many of her people were dying as she was trying to save herself, and hopefully a few others, if she was lucky.  As she ran up to his cell, Regina instinctively pulled away, not wanting to get too close to the man she thought was dangerous.

"You were right, Nottingham…It's started."  Rebecca pulled the cell key from her pants and opened the cage door.

"How do we get out of here?"  He asked as he slammed the cell door behind him.  He noticed Regina cowering away.

"I'm not going to hurt you.  We don't have time for getting acquainted."  He offered his open hand as a gesture to her, looking steadily in her eyes.

Regina prided herself on being a good judge of character.  In this moment, however, she realized that she had terribly misjudged Nottingham.  Relying on her instincts, she grabbed his hand.

"Follow me…both of you.  Do exactly as I say.  No question."  Nottingham commanded.

Ian ran for the door nearest the control room.  He carefully listened for sounds of the assailants, peering down the hallway outside to determine which way to go.  Suddenly, he could feel Sara.  She was to his left.  He knew the safest route would be to the right since the fighting was distinctly the other way, but his senses told him to find Sara.  He gave a silent hand signal for the others to follow.  They proceeded carefully down the hall with their backs to the wall.  The sound of silenced gunfire was growing louder.  Rebecca and Regina knew they were heading into the fight of their lives.

Nottingham gave them a signal to stop.  He proceeded around the corner as if he had not a care in the world.  He walked down the center of the hallway.  Five members of the invasion force stopped dead in their tracks.  They had obviously been told to rescue Nottingham, and had been informed of his description, perhaps shown a photo.  They allowed him to walk up to them without objection.  Big mistake.

Nottingham grabbed the shoulder of the man to his left to hold him steady as he punched out his larynx, breaking his neck with a fatal blow.  He hurled the man's body across the hallway toward two others.  They fell to the ground under the weight.  The last two men raised their weapons.  Nottingham used one to act as a shield as the other fired upon him.  Shoving the bullet-riddled body into the man in front of him, Nottingham delivered a deadly blow with the heel of his hand to the man's nose, killing him instantly.  The two men across the hall were struggling to their feet.  He grabbed the shoulders of the nearest one and shoved him head first into the wall across the hallway.  The man went down unconscious.  A backhand punch and an uppercut took out the final man.  The hallway was clear.

"Hurry.  Follow me."  He commanded.  Rebecca and Regina did as they were told.

Nottingham knew Sara was cutting down the odds from her side of the action.  He did not know how many men had been sent, but he knew he was not alone in his fight to save these people.

Nottingham had been right.  Sara and Danny had taken out five of their men from behind, leaving them unconscious or dead.  The remaining intruders had gathered up all facility personnel and herded them toward the workout room where they were being held, face down on the gymnasium floor.  The cell where Nottingham had been detained was empty.  The search of the facility continued.  Mercifully, the gunfire had stopped.

Nottingham hugged the wall alongside Rebecca and Regina as Sara and Danny rounded the corner near the gym.  Danny had his weapon up and Rebecca and Regina stood ready for attack.  Only Sara and Nottingham seemed to know there was nothing to fear.

"It's about time you got here.  Loosing your touch, Sara?"  Nottingham whispered sarcastically.

"And you…vacationing at Club Med while I worried about you?  You've got a lot of 'splainin' to do, Lucy."

Nottingham quietly made the introductions as they assessed their situation.

"I counted a total of twenty entering.  Danny and I took out two outside, five on the inside.  How about you?"  Sara asked.

"Five…took out five.  That leaves eight."  He replied as he peered around the open door of the gymnasium to make a quick count.

"There are three in there guarding the staff.  We could take the path of least resistance and take out these three, free the people we can and get them to safety.  The remaining mercenaries would leave if they did not find me."  

Nottingham's plan made sense.  Sara and Danny nodded their assent.  Nottingham would enter the workout room, theorizing these men would behave as the others had, allowing him to get close enough to do some damage.  Rebecca and Regina would gather up their people, then Sara and Danny would lead them out of the facility the way they had come in.  Once off the property, they could hide in the wooded areas surrounding the facility until they could call for help.  The plan was sound.

Nottingham walked casually into the gymnasium.  The three assailants walked up to Nottingham as expected.  It was the last memory they would have for a few hours.  The freed hostages quietly followed their project leader and the two NYPD detectives out the loading bay.  Nottingham made sure they were not followed.  As he left the loading dock, he turned to his right.  The body of Stan Raynes lay dead at his feet alongside two of his security personnel.  He had taken three rounds to the chest; his eyes open in shock.  Nottingham raised his hand in a mock salute to the dearly departed.

As the group made it's way to safety, the remaining five members of the assault team proceeded with the next step.  They had been instructed to completely destroy the facility.  After carefully insuring Nottingham was not among the casualties, they retrieved their dead and wounded and placed the remaining C-4 where it would obliterate the bunker.  There would be no hiding what they had done here after the explosion.

As Sara and Nottingham had secured the area for the freed hostages, they made sure they were safe in the hills outside of the Genesis Corporation's property.  A series of explosions started a rumbling sound as the bunker imploded.  The skies were beginning to lighten as dawn approached.  The beautifully serene landscape was ablaze with the fires of the devastating blast. The unexpected explosion had started some of the staffers behind them to cry in panic, but they were indeed happy to be alive. The warmth of the blaze provided some comfort against the cool night air and would act as a signal for help from the local trooper office, along with the cell phone call Danny was now making.  Sara, Nottingham, and Rebecca lay on their bellies, peering over the rise at the destruction below.  The glow of the flames reflected on their faces, each deep in their own thoughts of what might have happened.  Finally, Rebecca turned her face toward Ian who lay next to her.

"I can't begin to thank you enough.  You were right about the money behind this project.  I found proof of it in an email from Raynes…and I overheard your conversation with him.  There were no good intentions for a new race of man.  They only wanted an elite fighting force."  She looked sadly into his eyes, feeling used and betrayed.

"I've heard it said that 'the dream of yesterday is the hope of today and the reality of tomorrow'.  Don't give up your dreams, Rebecca.  Don't let the greed and corruption of these men change the person you are.  If you do, then they will have won."  He eloquently pleaded his case.

Sara, who had been listening to the exchange, turned toward Nottingham in admiration of a sensitivity she had not seen before.  Just then, she could have kissed him, but the doctor beat her to it.

Rebecca's eyes welled with tears.  The emotional release was the aftermath of her brush with death.  She leaned into Nottingham, her right hand touching his cheek, pulling him towards her.  She kissed him tenderly.  Nottingham stiffened, not expecting such a display of gratitude, but then he relaxed, giving into the warmth of the moment.  

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to embarrass you like that."  Rebecca had not blushed in a very long time.

Nottingham cleared his throat nervously.  He looked away from Rebecca towards the flames, then back again.

"That was…nice."  

He leaned into Rebecca, pulling her closer, and returned the kiss with a bit more feeling this time.  Nottingham was not accustomed to the physical reaction of his body to the warmth of this woman.  It felt good, but the woman he loved and would protect with his life lay just behind him.

"Maybe you two ought to get a room, huh?"  Sara suggested awkwardly. Sara was surprised by her reaction to the kiss.  She was jealous?  She had no reason to be; yet there it was, envy raising its green ugly little head.

"I'm sorry, Detective.  I just owe him so much."  Dr. Danforth offered.  She rose to join and calm her scared staff.  Beyond the earshot of the others, Sara continued.

"I understand that, Doctor.  Believe me.  He has saved my bacon a time or two."

Nottingham turned toward Sara with a questioning look.  He had not heard her speak like this before.  He had always thought she considered him a freak.

"What?  It's just that I…I felt so alone without my shadow.  It's just not the same going to bed at night, knowing there is no one stalking you on your fire escape.  I yearned for all your cryptic messages…longed for all your jewelry tips."  Sara teased.

Nottingham rolled closer to her, raising up on an elbow and resting his head on his hand with Sara doing the same.  Belly to belly, less than a foot apart, they faced each other.

"Maybe we should discuss this further…in private."  He extracted a leaf that had gotten lodged in Sara's hair, his eyes not straying from hers.

"You mean after we get these people to safety…after I file the most ridiculous police report I will ever do in a lifetime…after you explain this all to Irons…you mean after that?" She joked; taking that same leaf and putting it back into his hair.  He smiled, his laughter growing.  The sight and sound of him laughing was repayment enough for her efforts.  

"Maybe before I talk to Irons…'cause he's gonna kill me."  

She dreaded that he would have to report his involvement in the rescue of these innocent people to the man that had most probably organized and funded the raid.  Sara knew they needed a plan, and that to implement it, it would take the concerted effort of the principals involved.  Danny, Dr. Danforth, and Nottingham would have to work together, but all that could wait.

Nottingham lifted Sara's smiling face by her chin, his mocha brown eyes reflecting his desire.  He slowly lowered his lips to hers, closing his eyes, his soul melting into Sara's.  She returned the passion, pulling herself closer to the warmth of his body.  Sara could not recall them sharing a moment like this before, yet this felt right, as if it were meant to be.

Now her only concern was if Irons and everyone else would leave them alone. They needed solitude to explore what was rightfully theirs to explore at their own pace.

  


**Chapter Seven**

Nottingham navigated the busy New York City sidewalks with his usual anonymous demeanor and the contradictory fluid grace of a predator on the prowl.  His eyes always downward, he negotiated the busy thoroughfare as if maneuvering by sonar.  The sun shown brightly overhead on a cloudless blue sky, an unseasonably warm afternoon for New York this time of year.  His wavy dark hair was worn loose, wafting in the light breeze.  Dressed all in black, his dress slacks and shirt were worn under an all-weather, full-length black trench coat, falling open in front.  Sara had called less than an hour ago.  He had not questioned why she wanted to see him.  It was enough that she did.

As he made his way to her apartment, his mind replayed the conversation he had with Irons on the day following the raid.  Irons had been called on a secured line the night of the attack.  It had been reported that Nottingham was nowhere to be found; yet he was not among the casualties.  Irons thought that maybe Ian had been extracted before the hired thugs had a chance to rescue him.  

With Dr. Danforth to back up his story, Nottingham reported that he had already been successful in his own escape effort and was on his way out of the facility when the assailants stormed the bunker and Detectives Pezzini and Woo were on the scene to rescue the researchers.  It would not have been prudent for him to act in concert with the assault force so as not to cast suspicion towards his employer Kenneth Irons.  Therefore, he assisted the NYPD, knowing the assault force would be successful in blowing up the evidence.  After all, it was he who had suggested they leave the facility to the remaining invaders so they may flee to safety.

Ian also informed Irons that Stan Raynes was in charge of the project, wanting to engineer an elite fighting force.  This may not have been too far from the truth.  The direct conversation he had with him confirmed this.  Nottingham personally observed his dead body as he escaped the bunker.  The rest of the research staff was ignorant of the intent of the project, not having a 'need to know'.  Ian knew Irons would buy that part being a believer in the concept.  In appreciation to Ian, Rebecca Danforth had turned over all her files and materials so he may destroy them.  Irons would never know about her involvement.

Nottingham reported this story to Irons at his office in the Vorschlag building, standing in front of his desk in his usual manner, head and eyes cast downward.  He knew Irons was staring at him, unsure what to believe of his story.  There was a long silence.  Nottingham held his ground.  All the participants were consistent in their versions.  Irons had already checked before listening to his protégé, but he had received a subsequent report from the mercenaries that he had hired.  Apparently, Nottingham had killed and wounded some of the assault team.  Since Irons' plan had been relatively successful, he had chosen to ignore the report.  You did not get to be Kenneth Irons without knowing which battles to fight and when to retreat.  When he rose from his desk chair, he moved towards Ian.  Nottingham braced himself; his face turned sharply to his right in anticipation of a blow that did not come.  Instead, Irons' hand rested on his shoulder, with a slight squeeze.

"Glad you are home safe and sound, young Nottingham."  It was all Irons said, dismissing him for the day.  It was as close to true affection as Nottingham had felt from Kenneth Irons in a long while.

Nottingham replayed this moment in his head as he walked through Elizabeth Park, Sara's favorite jogging path.  He smiled when he was reminded of one of Irons' commandments. 'There are no coincidences, Ian.'  Nottingham stopped along the way to buy a dozen roses for Sara.  He chose red for passion and hoped she would appreciate the symbolism.

As Sara's roses were being wrapped with care, she was also replaying what had been reported to her superiors as she brushed her hair in her bathroom mirror.  Danny did not have to lie since she had not shared her suspicions of Irons' involvement.  There was speculation that terrorists may have instigated the assault, suspecting Stan Raynes' military secrets to be the target for the raid.  Since the staff had not been fully apprised of the project's goals, the secret had evidently died with Raynes.  To date, no group had come forward to claim responsibility.  She and Danny had formulated their theories on the long ride back to New York City.  It was Trooper Gary Wellman who had actually suggested the terrorist slant.  Who was Sara to dismiss such a novel idea?  Trooper Gary would be telling his great grandkids about this one.  Why should she spoil his fun?

Ian had remained with Rebecca Danforth and her staffers to make sure they would get to safety.  Sara had not seen him since that day.  Ian's kiss communicated his intentions quite clearly, yet it still bothered her that the good doctor was spending more time with him.  Jealousy can be an ugly thing.

Nottingham got to the door of Sara's apartment building and was about to press the front buzzer to announce his arrival when a better thought came to him.  He looked up to her window above, remembering she had missed her fire escape stalker.  Climbing the steps two at a time until he stood on her landing, he quietly opened her window and stepped into her apartment, roses in hand.

"Freeze…NYPD."  She commanded forcibly.  Nottingham could feel her weapon at his back.  He slowly raised his hands.

"Drop the roses, pal."  She was in charge.  He slowly placed the bundle on her kitchen counter to his left.

"Without turning around…slowly remove your coat…keeping your hands where I can see them."  He complied with her every wish, biting his lip trying hard to suppress a chuckle.

"Now, up against the wall…assume the position…spread 'em."  Sara stepped slowly towards the intruder; her weapon aimed at the middle of his shoulder blades.

Sara's left hand ran slowly along his left then right arm.  Nottingham's breathing began to escalate as her hand felt along his chest, then traveled to his well-muscled stomach.  She lingered there, inserting her probing fingers under his shirt and against his warm skin.  He kept his composure, never uttering a word, until her hands brushed him just south of the Mason Dixon line in a very familiar manner.  His gasp almost made Sara loose her control.

"Are you hiding contraband…or are you just happy to see me?" She finally joked.

"Turn around…slowly."  She ordered, determined to stick with the role-playing.

As he turned around, still with his hands raised over his head, he noticed the weapon that Sara had held at his back was a water pistol.  His hands still suspended above; he shook his head in mock disbelief.

"Don't make me get my AK semi-automatic Super Soaker, pal.  Then, you'll be sorry."  

She stayed in character, pointing the plastic weapon towards the bedroom.  When he did not move fast enough, she sent a cold blast of water his way.  He did not seem to be as fast at dodging her water gun as he had been dodging semi-automatic weapon fire.

Sara had him lay on the bed as she handcuffed him to the metal headboard, leaving his gloves on.  If all things went as planned, those gloves may be the only apparel he would get to keep on his person.  He remained silent, watching her every move with those spectacular brown eyes, as if trying to memorize every nuance of her face.

Sara straddled his stomach, her cheeks flushed and her heart racing.  Goose bumps chilling the rest of her body.  She wanted to relish every moment of their first time together, for they would never have this moment back again.

"You are one of a kind…and you deserve future study…by me."  Sara teased.  

Nottingham wanted to ask what she had meant by that, not having been awake for Sara's dialogue with Raynes.  He tilted his head and peered into her eyes, as if to read her mind rather than ask a question.  

Apprehension soon replaced any playfulness registering in Nottingham's eyes.  He could not look Sara in the face.  She quickly picked up on his change in behavior, taking his chin in her right hand; she forced him to look into her eyes.

"What is the matter, Ian?"  She asked as she kissed his forehead, her hands caressing his cheeks.

"Sara…I've never…I've never done this…" Ian was struggling with this admission, his voice quivering with shame.

Sara pressed her fingers gently to his lips, saving him the embarrassment of having to admit he had never been with a woman.  This was just another bit of cruelty imposed by Irons to keep his minion focused on his training and devoid of emotion.  Nottingham seemed afraid to give voice to this flaw for fear Sara might think him a freak.  Instead, her heart and soul wanted to reach out to him.

"Leave everything up to me, young Jedi."  She teased affectionately.

She released him from his handcuffs gently.  This was not a time for games.  Those could come later.  Today, she would teach him how to please her and she would give herself to him unconditionally.  A slow and grateful, yet tentative smile spread across his handsome face.  At that moment, Sara knew she could never tire of looking into his eyes or seeing his face light up with that grin.

She lay herself atop him, languidly acquainting herself with the intoxicating smell of his skin.  She wanted to kiss every inch of his body, to know him better than he knew himself.  He encircled his arms around her in a loving embrace, slowly caressing her.  She would guide Ian to becoming the lover she had always dreamed about, and she hoped he would trust her enough to communicate his desires and fantasies.

They now had the time to do just that.

The next morning, Sara had come to a realization.  For the first time in many nights, she had not dreamed erotically about Nottingham through the assistance of the Witchblade.  She had lived the dream, beyond all her expectations.  She would have to somehow show her appreciation to Kenneth Irons for the genetic enhancements he had bestowed upon Nottingham for she had been the sole beneficiary, the only woman to experience his gifts.  With Sara's guiding hand and gentle instruction, Ian proved to be an enthusiastic lover, gaining confidence with every 'practice run'.  

"You can never get too much practice, Sara."  Nottingham had teased.

"I think you've earned your black belt, Ian.  You can teach me now."  She winked with a wicked grin.

Nottingham's eyes communicated so much without words, but Sara coaxed him into telling her what he wanted from her as his lover.  He charmed her with his shy requests, but he gained assuredness as she complied with his every wish.  In the early hours of the next morning, they had collapsed in sheer exhaustion.  Their bodies glistening with sweat.  They curled up next to one another with Nottingham spooned up against Sara's back, holding her close to him.  She smiled as his breathing and his body told her he had fallen asleep in her arms.  A solitary tear glistened in the moonlight, having fallen from Sara's eyes as she fell asleep herself; she was truly happy.

The next morning, Sara awoke before Nottingham.  She found herself nestled on his shoulder, caressing his broad chest with her left hand.  She slipped out of bed so as not to wake him.  He had earned the right to sleep late.  She slipped into the bathroom, pulling on a robe, brushing her hair, and cleaning her teeth.  Starting breakfast, she stole moments by watching him sleep.  He looked magnificent in her bed, his mocha-colored skin looking so creamy smooth against her white linens.  His dark wavy hair was difficult to resist.  She wanted to stroke every strand.  She yearned for the moment when he would grace her with a look into his sleepy eyes, for she wanted to be the first thing he would see.  She did not have to wait long.  The smell of the bacon, coffee, toast, and eggs opened those incredible brown eyes.

"Hey, Sara." She knew she would love his sleepy voice.

"Hey, Nottingham."  She smiled, reminded of last night, she continued.

"Bet you thought I got religion last night with as many times as I called upon the good Lord."  She joked.  She was rewarded with his bright smile, a little chuckle, and the sight of Ian blushing.

He propped himself up in bed with pillows; his drowsy eyes told her he was not fully awake.  He stretched to get his blood circulating.  The muscles in his chest and arms were driving Sara crazy.  In another moment, she would be turning off the stove and jumping back into bed with him.  Tempting fate, she plated up the food.  He would have breakfast in bed.

The expression on his face told her he was not interested in sustenance.  Still, he remained silent; letting her feed him sliced strawberries, bites of bacon, and bits of toast.  By the time she had gotten to the scrambled eggs, he had moved the plate of food and pulled her onto the bed, feeding her strawberries with his lips.  

The student had indeed surpassed the teacher.

Nottingham took great pleasure in gratifying her every need.  He made it an art form.  Ian proved to be a generous lover, always satisfying Sara before himself.  Following their love making, Nottingham fed Sara breakfast spoonful by spoonful, seeming to enjoy every moment.  After they ate, Sara took the dishes to the sink while Ian showered.  She smiled as he walked to the bathroom without benefit of a robe or a sheet.  She was reminded yet again of his many assets.

After cleaning up the kitchen, when she knew Ian was in the shower, Sara slipped in with him.  After all, who would scrub his back?  They emerged from the shower an hour later out of necessity.  There was no more hot water.

"I've created a monster."  Sara proclaimed.

Nottingham quietly smiled, flushed with color, then laughed softly.  He knew he was forever lost for he could not get enough of Sara Pezzini.  As he dressed, he watched Sara get ready for the day.  He knew he had given himself totally to Sara as he had in other life times before this one.  They had experienced dreams or visions of past lives together as lovers, compliments of the Witchblade.  Nottingham knew he would entrust this woman with his heart.  It was the only gift he could freely give her.

Sara pretended not to notice Nottingham as he readied himself to leave.  She dreaded his return to the Irons' estate alone.  The reality of the situation was that Nottingham would eventually have to leave and break the spell that had beguiled them both.  Maybe last night would be all they would ever share.  No way, she thought.  She would not allow that to happen.  Just then, the sound of a cell phone could be heard.

Sara could see Nottingham's shoulders slump as he realized it was his cell.  At the same moment, Sara's cell phone sounded.  It was her turn to experience disappointment.

"Yes, sir?"  Ian replied.

"Pezzini here."  Sara answered.

Nottingham turned to meet her eyes as he listened to Kenneth Irons.  Sara was hearing the voice of Captain Dante.  The demands of their separate worlds had collided.  Others would pull them apart today, but there was always tomorrow.

As they both headed out Sara's front door to appease their employers, Nottingham stopped in her kitchen for a moment.  He handed Sara a single red rose.  She had noticed he had pulled all the rose petals off another rose, putting them in his shirt pocket.   

"Thanks, Nottingham.  Nice color by the way.  Red is for passion, right?"  Sara smiled as she enjoyed the scent.

"Yes…I believe you are right, Sara" He beamed.  He knew she would get it.


End file.
